Ghosts
by Medie
Summary: You ever think about them, Bones?"


title: Ghosts  
author: medie  
rating: pg13  
pairing: Kirk/McCoy  
word count: 1065  
disclaimer: don't own it, not really. Not trying.  
note: written for **inell**'s prompt "Kismet" for the ABC meme  
summary: "You ever think about them, Bones?"

Jim felt it sometimes. The slight suggestion at the edge of his consciousness. A sensor ghost flickering for a second before vanishing again. Moments, words, times when he was sure he'd done this before and that was the bitch of it.

Some version of him _did_. At least, could have, maybe, and having read up on Vulcan mindmelds (Sort of. Wasn't much before Vulcan was lost, so after the fact...) Jim knew enough to suspect. Guess. If the other him melded with the other Spock, then, maybe, that emotional transference meant more than just emotion slipped across the gap.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes, letting himself slump against the plush fabric of the sofa. Their hosts must like their victims to be comfortable before they ripped their guts out.

"You ever think about them, Bones?"

He looked over, watching Bones watch the girl, and crossed his fingers. The closest thing to an answer Bones cared to give was a non-committal grunt and, maybe, a muttered 'who?' but Jim couldn't swear to it. The way Bones's gaze was flicking from his tricorder to their cellmate and back again said he was on to something.

"I get these feelings sometimes," he said, trying again.

"Got a shot'd clear that right up."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Not that kind of feeling, jackass. Seriously, Bones, do you ever think about them?"

"Not if I can help it, no," Bones finally said. He looked over, putting down the tricorder. "I'm going to guess, based on the way you're interrupting my very important work, that you do. A lot."

"She's an empath, Bones," Jim said, shrugging. "And she has no vocal cords. Same results as five minutes ago." He sat up, looking at the ceiling. Or, at least, in the ceiling's general direction. The shroud of darkness that covered everything but circle of light from the bulb overhead. Feeling Bones's eyes on him, he dropped his gaze. "I just -- I don't know. Maybe it's a leftover from the whole thing with _him_." He waved fingers toward his head then gestured aimlessly. Discussing the other Spock, the Ambassador, was always complicated.

Especially the part about the whole meld thing. Bones was still muttering about potential neurological damage. It was one of his favorites. When he got on that subject, Jim could almost miss the fear in his eyes.

Almost.

Most days, there was no missing it.

Bones shifted closer, on his knees beside Jim, bringing up the tricorder. He started scanning. "Could be a head injury," he muttered. "That last session with our 'friends' left you pretty fucked over."

"Yeah?" Jim asked, grinning. "That your official diagnosis, Doctor?"

"My 'official diagnosis' would probably give you a bigger headache than the one you have now," Bones replied. "And then Gem and I would have to listen to you complaining about it. Frankly, by the time you really got going, we'd be crossing our fingers and hoping they'd kill us."

"If that's your idea of a joke," Jim said, "you need help, Bones."

"Yeah, well, any psychologist worth their salt'd ID my problem in about thirty seconds." Bones dropped the tricorder. "His name's James T. Kirk. Ever hear of him?" He pressed a hand to Jim's forehead. "Not feverish. Good."

"Couldn't your tricorder tell you that?" Jim asked.

Bones shrugged, avoiding the answer. "What is it that you're supposed to be feeling?"

"I dunno," Jim said, relieved. Sure, he'd rather chew neutronium than talk about this, but Bones wasn't obsessing over Gem's physiology or their hosts or the hell those hosts were promising. "Guess it's like a permanent case of deja vu. We do things or say things and it just feels like I've been here before." He blinked and, for a moment, felt the drag of chains on his arms, gravity pulling him down even as they pulled him up. When he looked at Bones, he saw him flat on the sofa beneath him, broken and bleeding. "We've been here before, Bones. We've been on this planet with these aliens, with _her_ and -- "

Shit. Not exactly where he wanted this conversation to go.

"The Ambassador said the universe was trying to fix itself. That time's trying to put everything back to rights." He frowned. "Like we don't even have a choice."

"Bullshit," Bones said, angry. "Whatever that pointy-eared..." He stopped. "Whatever the Ambassador said doesn't matter. We still get a choice. Time, fate, kismet, whatever you wanna call it, it doesn't get the final say." He leaned forward, curling a hand into Jim's hair. His fingers slid of Jim's head and guided him forward. "Question for you."

Ever so carefully still, Jim tried for nonchalance. It wasn't easy. Not with his heart hammering in his chest, blood roaring in his ears, and his eyes focused phaser-intense on Bones's face. Bones stared back, his eyes on Jim's mouth. "Shoot."

Bones's fingers slid down so he could drag a thumb over Jim's lower lip. "This feel familiar?"

Jim shook his head, savoring the way his skin tingled beneath Bones's touch, and smiled. "No."

"Huh, imagine that," Bones said, his drawl deepening. "Guess we pulled one over on the universe." He leaned forward, lips brushing Jim's, but only just. "How about that? The other McCoy ever do that?"

As mute as their cellmate, Jim shook his head again. He leaned forward in silent request. Something Bones didn't seem interested in denying. The kiss was firm, almost predatory, like a man staking a claim. "No," he finally managed to say. "Never. Not that -- " he shook his head. "No." That he would remember. It wasn't exactly something a man forgot.

Bones smiled. He kissed Jim again, quicker this time, then sat back. "Well, then, maybe the universe can be surprised after all."

The sound of footsteps brought Jim to his feet. Despite their jailer's approach, Gem was smiling at him. Her expression almost approving. He smiled back then looked at Bones. "We'll finish this conversation on the ship, Doctor," he said, as formal as he could manage.

Bones smirked, bouncing a little on his toes. "Bet your ass we will. Fate gets in the way of this one and there'll be hell to pay."

Jim snorted. "I can believe it."

And if it was McCoy against the universe, then in Jim's opinion, the universe didn't stand a goddamn chance.


End file.
